Climbing The Odyssey
I once went on vacation with a couple of climbing buddies for two weeks with no definitive plans .We met up in the middle of the desert. Having made tentative plans before hand with sketchy directions to a spot that none of us had ever been to, it’s amazing that we were ever able to find each other .the directions given to us by word of mouth by a third party and read like this. Left on gold canyon rd, right at the No trespassing sign. Drive around old ghost town studio. Follow dirt road east into the desert for an undisclosed distance .turn left at the fork, right at the large fallen cactus left at the boulder pile stop at base of Small Mountain that sits at the base of a 3, 5000 ft mountain. All of this to find our third party "Garth”. He was the third guy in this story. He was the youngest of us and had never been more then 100 ft off the ground. My climbing partner and I were big wall adventurers/veterans and had climbed many a big wall. We could not find Garth's camp but was told by a friend that if need be, to resort to calling out his name. We were in the superstition mountains just east of PHX az. you would be surprised as to how far away from civilization you feel even though you are just on the outskirts of the city. The city view is blocked by the massive formation and impressive mass of the mountains .large tuft, pocketed volcanic walls and rock spires in every direction leaving me feeling the smallness of myself in this beautiful playground from GOD called Earth. I really was in my element. So, against my normal rational thought, I found myself calling out to the quiet empty desert at the top of my lungs.” GARTH". . I looked to my partner who gave me a shrug of his shoulders as if to say " Has it really come to this, we’re never going to find him”. A few more determined calls produced a silhouette of my friend atop the small mountain that still holds his name and would one day be the resting place of his ashes. There he was waving and yelling,"Over here”
I could almost see, but more sense the broad smile across his boyish, pimple covered face. He was a true hippie climber. Young, 18 maybe, with visions of big climbing adventure in his blood. He had been camped out on this small mountain for a week putting up some new routes (climbs) on the small walls at the top, only walking distance from his hobo camp. We spent the day climbing his fine new routes. He always had an eye for good solid rock. That night was spent smoking rope and passing spirits around a campfire. Telling stories and laughing at ourselves. Tall tales of close calls that were sometimes, maybe exaggerated just a little for affect. This was the first day of my vacation. With a truck full of supplies, loads of gear, large bags from harvest! And no where in particular to be but where we were. I woke to the beautiful sight of the Superstitions in the morning. These mountains are magical!! Words can't describe the hypnotic, peaceful yet rugged beauty of these intimidating hills. I imagine the old gold mining pioneers coming through here with visions of gold and wealth. Only to find hardship and the cold cruel brutality of the native apache, who had no mercy for the wondering white man. That morning there was talk of adventure. Across the small canyon to the north was the mass proper of the main formation that is "The SUPE"S" as we call them. High atop this huge 3,500’ monster was the largest rock formation on this side of the mountains .These mountains jut up out from the desert valley as if pushed by the hand of God himself. There it was .The Acropolis Wall. 650' of adventure sitting 2000' from the desert floor. Rarely visited and when it is, left the visitor with horror stories to be passed by word of mouth in hush tones around the campfire. I had heard such stories. Stories of 100' sections of broken rock high up on the wall. Volkswagen size flakes, tentativly perched just waiting for the unbenownsed climber to pull them off. Now that’s adventure! Almost too much for me. You see. Although I am a vet , that doesn’t mean that I am the bravest of climbers. But we made plans to climb it the next day. A trip into town for food and gear was in order. We dropped Garth off at his Mom's and headed for a strip club for vacation drinks and well...Strippers. Yes I was single and horny. The next morning before sun up we collected Garth and headed to what would prove to be one of the greatest adventures of my life. We followed the dirt roads to get as close as we could before the four runner was pushed to it's limit and started our 2000' hike through fields of jumping cactus and virgin boulder fields all the while carrying EVERYTHING that we could and possibly would need .Water, food ,ropes , climbing gear.tent,booze(a must) clothes . Even distributed between the three of us our packs were nearly 90 lbs each. We spent the entire day bypassing head walls through boulder fields up a mountain with no trail .Feeling like Moses on his way to spiritual enlightenment. The days end found us on a very small ledge sitting under the only tree on the whole mountain .Really.The only tree! Where under this tree was the ONLY flat spot to lay on this mountain .With our backs literally against the wall that we would be climbing. 650' of vertical rock with the last 150' overhanging the entire wall! We set up camp and set in for the night. I was awoken by the cold, yes cold and damp drizzle that would set in for the next week. Leaving us to share a two man tent with three guys for a week..............
It was the week before new years and we all had to miss family gatherings for the holidays to be here. But here we were. Three men in a tent designed for two. Caught in a rain storm that would set aside our plans to climb The Odyssey. A route rumored to be one of Arizona's last great adventures and the largest wall in the Phoenix area. A true gem, but not for the light hearted. With a moderate rating of 5.8+ **, it was destined to be a classic that few would venture to climb. But here we were. If anyone ever tells you that it never gets cold in the desert is just lying to you. With the temperature changes going on in the valley floor, we were experiencing gusts of cold air that would have us running for our bags in between flurries of drizzling rain. The clouds were now low in the ski or for us, at eyes level. The wall was wet and unclimbable and would be for some time, unless we got a day of good weather to dry it. Maybe we could still have time to get to the top before we had to go back to our 9-5's.Jobs that is. In between flurries, I found myself standing on the edge of our ledge that sits more then 2000' from the desert floor that was blanketed by cloud cover. I would get brief glimpses of the desert below and take in the view that few eyes have. Wondering if I would ever again in my life, have the opportunity to witness such beauty from this perch. I watched in awe as a pick-up sized cloud, position directly in front of me, grew to the size of a football field in a matter of two minutes. As it collected moisture from the air around it. Almost forgetting my purpose for the visit. I finished my business and crawled back to the tent for more hot totties and Smokey treats! This is when a backpacking stove comes in really handy. A few more days of this and we were all getting a little antsy and starting to get on each others nerves. Smelly feet and farts.Loud snores and the "so there I was" stories were getting old. We wanted to make some more stories! Supplies were getting low and we were in danger of abandoning the whole thing when Jeff called out with excitement in his voice that he had found a backpack stashed in the bushes on his way to the call of nature. Inside we found some dry food, loads of climbing gear, ropes and of course the all so important bottle of scotch. Against the climber’s code to leave be what is not yours. We were desperate. We were almost out of water and food and promised to refill the stores two fold. With the gear that we found we devised a plan of retreat with intentions of returning the next day to finally climb! The weather was breaking, and with the gear stash, we could bypass the large head walls by rappelling down them and leaving fixed lines to ascend on our way back up the mountain. Shaving off precious hours off the retreat and return trips. That night we partied like it was 1999. New Years Eve would be spent sleeping in preparation for the climb. We left camp the next day with very empty packs. Carrying just enough water and gear to get us back to the truck. Five hours of fast retreat found us back in the four runner headed back to the strip club! We got a room for the night and kept an eye on the news for weather checks. Things were looking good. Sitting in the comfort of my hotel bed , I thought about my empty tent perched high above the desert floor and hoped we could make it back before our mystery climber returned to find his pack gone and our camp empty. We shopped the next morning and headed back to the desert. So far our plan was working perfectly. It was New Years Eve 1991.
The weather was great that day! Knowing that the wall had been drying was comforting among the horror stories of loose rock. We made the ledge in record time. Except this time our packs seamed to be even heavier then the first trip. Because the climb would take all day, we planned to enjoy the rest of the day smoking and drinking, knowing that tomorrow was going to be the day. I really don't like to smoke and climb because I like to have my head about me when I climb .So when we woke and Jeff suggested a morning puff, I was leery. Against my better judgment I did partake. He said we had a couple of hours yet to start because we had to make breakfast and sort gear. But it turns out that that didn't take us long. We were ready to go and my buzz hadn't yet worn off. We fussed over who would take the first lead as I tried to stall, hoping that my head would clear. Aggravated by the miscommunication I opted to take the first lead, taking everyone including myself by surprise. What was I thinking? I NEVER take the first lead. Jeff was a much stronger leader then I. In terms of mental strength. Physically we were all hard bodied climbers. So off I went. I followed a left arching formation that bulged away from the wall like an eve on a house.Climbing on adrenaline and anger power (not a good idea) I soon found myself 140' up and out from the ground. There were fixed pitons and bolts from the original party but not enough to calm my growing nerves. Between my feet, was a view of the top of our tent 100+ ft below. I had the anchor in view only 12' away from me .but I had run out of bolts and had no where to place gear. Standing on edges the size if a match box and few places for my hands, I felt my palms began to sweat. To this day I cannot for the life of me remember how I made it that last 12’! No foot holds and few hand holds found me calling "off belay" and hanging in my harness. After Jeff and Garth made it to me, Garth offered to take the next lead. It was a short pitch (rope length to the next anchor) but he had a big smile on his face when I finally made it to him. There was great energy between us. What I found when I got to the next anchor was a small ledge the size of a coffee table but not as wide. Enough room for the three of us to sit.
I looked up to see a long crack that got progressively thinner as it went up. Jeff’s lead and a good thing because it was a scary pitch. Before I started up, Garth and I heard the distant sound of a helicopter. Soon we saw him fly by 100' from the wall and 75' below us. We were looking down on a helicopter!! The pilot had a mustache, that's how close he was. He never even saw us .I have a vivid memory of Garth sitting on that ledge with the desert drop behind him and took the opportunity to fire off a couple of photo’s. He looked at me as to say “Man, don't point that thing at Me." he hates to take pictures. The great crack, as it's called was the crux of the climb140' hand crack. Jeff did a great job leading as always. The crack got so small that I couldn't get my fingers in it to climb. Forcing me to use the small pockets on the face to make it to the next ledge .The next pitch was Garth’s. From talking to another climber who had attempted this route, Garth knew that this was the pitch that Mark Harris had fallen from and had turned him back. He was determined to not fail but spent more then an hour trying to figure out the next moves. From 100' above a heard “Man, this is cheese ball”. the only way that I can describe Garth is like Shaggy from scoobydoo.After we all made Garth's high point , it was clear that this was the beginning of the 100' section of broken up rock . This section of the wall overhung the ENTIRE wall!! Just like the eve of a house. My lead. I figured that I was the lightest of the three of us and I would have the best chance of climbing this section without pulling off a huge flake. And this pitch was full of widow makers. Jeff and Garth ducked under a small overhang as I pulled off loose pieces and sent them ground bound. I found a chimney crack and climbed inside. Working my way to the top of the wall. As I reached the exit moves I knew that I would have to leave the safety of the large crack and reached out to find what felt like a tabletop edge. Letting my legs go airborne. I was hanging by my arms with 650' of open air between me and my tent and another 2000' to the desert floor. I pulled up over the top just in time to see the sun setting. The most beautiful sunset to date. Except now I have two guys more then 150'below me .By the time they got to where I was the sun was long gone and I was the only one with a headlamp. The guild book said that we should take the 2nd gully down. The 1st being potentially fatal. But in the dark it all looks the same. We ended up in the 1st gully that turned out to be a dry waterfall not a gully at all! Four rappels of living terror took up the next four and a half hours. I led the rappels because I did not have a jacket and needed to keep moving. I was wearing only shorts and a t-shirt. And with the wet weather that we had been having and the time of year it was, it got colder then I have seen it get in Years. I was in the beginning stages of hypothermia. Uncontrollable shaking. Lack of clarity in thought. the anchors were getting scarier as we went, I remember leaning back to rappel, my light not being strong enough to see the ground , not knowing if my rope would reach a suitable ledge for another anchor. But I went on pure faith in God that he would get me down. Jeff and Garth had to wrap their arms around me for a few moments to get me to stop shaking, after they did Jeff took over the rappel and 20 minutes later we were at the tent. It was 11:00 PM.
We had spaghetti that night but were so tired and not paying attention that the spaghetti stuck together in one big noodle .we cut it up in thirds and it was the best damn spaghetti of my life!
Many years later Garth would take his own life. Jeff and I had been best friends for many years and had a falling out. I would later take that hike to get as close as I could to the Acropolis wall, with Garth’s mom, to scatter his ashes. That’s a story to it’s self. From where I scattered his ashes, Garth’s mountain is clearly visible. That was 1994.
Garth
My friend Garth was very sick and was born with schizophrenia. I watched my poor young Friend slowly lose his mind over a period of several years. It was so very sad. I was left wondering if I had done everything that I could to save him .Often thinking that I had not done enough. Was I or could I have been a better friend? I have since come to terms with these feelings. I know that there was nothing more that I could have done. In all truth, I would later find out that I was his very best friend in life.
He and I used to climb often on Mt. Elden in Flagstaff AZ. I have many fond memories of those days. Those were some of the best days of my life. When I was the happiest I have ever been. Years after leaving Flag. Garth would end up being sick and homeless in the streets of phoenix. I too had moved to Phoenix after some very difficult life altering events that would scar me for life. The end of my happiest days. I had made a new circle of friends in PHX. One of which knew Garth as well. We planned a climbing trip to Flagstaff. A two hr.drive from the big city. On the way, the subject of Garth came up and we spent most of the drive relaying his sad story to the others in the car. He was still alive at this time but very mentally ill. We arrived at west Elden early in the morning. It was a picture perfect day. There is always a curtain atmosphere of energy between climbers at this time. When we just arrive and are putting on our packs for the hike to the wall. The hike is a short 5min.trot up hill. There was another party there, husband and wife. They were climbing a route next to our intended route. As we arrived I was in the middle of removing my pack and looking up at the wall when I heard someone say" Hey, that looks like Garth up there!" To my surprise, I saw a young man standing on the edge of the cliff that we would be climbing .Directly at the exit point of our intended route. He did seem to resemble Garth but he quickly disappeared. He had been smoking a joint but seemed to be scarred off by us. We didn't think much of it at the time. After climbing the route I found the remainder of the joint waiting for me at the exit moves. We spent the afternoon climbing and having fun. It was a great day. When it was time to go, I really didn't want to leave. This mountain used to be in my backyard. Now I had to drive hours to get to it. As we approached the parking lot I saw, sitting under a large pine tree ...Garth. Crying, kneeling, with all of the contents of his pack meticulously placed in a large circle around him. Socks, shoes, toothbrush, coat, flashlight, hat.......... you get the picture. There he was .He had shaved his head, leaving a ponytail on the front side of his head. I asked him if he was OK. He shook his head no and crying to me asked if I would "just sit down and talk to him" We spoke briefly. I found out that he had no water or food. I gave him all I had. I also found out that he had hitchhiked from PHX. to be here. Without asking I knew his purpose. He had intended to take his life that day. He had it all planned out, made it all the way to the wall, hiked up the backside. Lit his last joint and walked to the edge for the last moments of his short life. Looked down and saw me! What are the chances of that? I couldn't give him a ride back because we didn't have enough room for him. If I would have known that that would be the last time that I would ever see him in my life ....well ......there really isn't anything that I can change now .But at least I did get the chance to say goodbye to what may be my biggest fan and valued friend. He believed in me more then I believed in myself. A big piece of me died when he died. One of the hardest things that I have ever had to do is turn my back and leave my friend crying and kneeling under that tree.
I would later receive a phone call from him that would be the last. We spoke for about 15 min. he told me to climb hard for him .He sounded like the sane guy that I had befriended 5 yrs. prior. Two weeks later he would take his own life. Jumping from a cliff that would not prove to be immediately fatal. He lay in the dark bleeding to death. Alone. His body lay in the hot Arizona heat for 3 days before being found by a nearby homeowner. His body so decomposed that his mother was not allowed viewing him. This Aug.14th will be 14 years. I do miss him. May he rest in peace.
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